


Bitter Half

by turnabout



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plenty of Yearning, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, With a splash of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnabout/pseuds/turnabout
Summary: Gavin Reed was born unmarked, and had spent his entire life expecting to die like he lived - alone. It isn't until Tina points out the new serial number on his chest that he realizes everything is about to change. Whether that's for better or for worse is up to him.





	1. Chapter 1

Gavin Reed was born October 7th, 2002, weighing in at a healthy seven pounds, two ounces. The attending physician noted down these facts, the name his parents had given him, and the fact that there was no name on his body. All of this information was recorded on his birth certificate.

His mom raised concerns about the lack of a name – didn’t her son have a soul mate? The nurse assured her that plenty of babies were born without names. It didn’t mean they were doomed to spend eternity alone; just that their other half hadn’t been born yet. She was assured by this.

When Gavin turned five, he asked his mom the same question, and she assured him with the same statement.

When he turned ten, he brought up the same concern.

“So there’s going to be an age gap,” she said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“I don’t want my soul mate to be a baby when I’m a grown up,” Gavin argued.

“Being patient is better than being alone,” she pointed out.

Another five years rolled around. Gavin’s mother started to get antsy, and Gavin started to see the writing on the wall. Roughly two percent of the population was mark-free, but it didn’t exactly have good connotations. They were nicknamed the MF, and they were generally presumed unlovable. The more notable MF were known sociopaths – serial killers, CEOs and the like.

Gavin debated getting a tattoo with a name on it. Something generic – Jack, Caitlin, whatever – so his mom would feel better. But he would know. And that was the thing about moms, wasn’t it? If he knew, somewhere, deep down, she would know. So Gavin held off.

Twenty rolled around.

“Being patient is better than being alone,” she said. Somewhere along the line that had become more of a prayer than a promise. But she made Gavin repeat it, and he smiled at her and helped her make tomato sauce and promised her grandchildren, even if she’d never meet them at this rate.

Thirty rolled around.

They unveiled synth-skin, for people who wanted to cover their names. It took some of the heat off Gavin. Before then, he had been claiming that his mark was on his ass, if anyone pushed him about it. It was on his birth certificate and his department file that he was nameless, but only a few people had access to them. A few people and a fucking ton of androids, that was.  
They rubbed him the wrong way for plenty of reasons. When asked about it, he hung his hat on the classic argument of how they weren’t people but were taking hardworking people’s jobs.

Thirty-six rolled around, and with it came the end of the world.

But then it started again, albeit very different from how it was before. Androids were people, now. Next came the employment laws, then the housing shit – Barbie and Ken doll could fucking vote, too. What a nightmare.

 

No one could blame Gavin for missing it. He took hot showers that fogged up the mirror, and at his age, he wasn’t exactly closely examining his reflection, anyway.

But on January 4th, 2039, he wore a V-neck, and Tina commented on it. Not a damn, looking good, Reed, either. What she said was:

“New ink?”

“What?” was Gavin’s response. In his defense, he hadn’t had a coffee yet.

“Looks like a serial number,” she said.

Gavin peered down at his chest, and saw a sight he was largely familiar with – freckles, a faint spattering of chest hair, and –

What was that?

“Huh,” he said.

He couldn’t quite make out the exact number without pulling his shirt away from his chest, but it very clearly ended with 87. The linoleum cruelly lurched underneath him. A bead of sweat dripped down Gavin’s back. His mind went surprisingly blank, the way that it did when a gun was trained on him. He did his best to summon a thought, any thought. Whatever would save him from this situation.

“Is it like, a statement?”

“Uh…”

“Like, anti-android?”

Gavin had always visualized his brain as having a tiny hamster running on a wheel inside it. In that moment, it was as though the hamster woke up and began a leisurely stroll.

“Yeah,” he said, weakly. “Y’know, ‘cause, uh, we’re more than them. More than a number.”

“So you got a serial number on your chest to prove it?”

The hamster began to pick up speed.

“It’s…” Gavin swallowed dryly, “…ironic.”

Tina took a deep breath. “Gavin, how long have we been friends?”

“Ten years?”

“Yeah. Ten years, and have I ever lied to you?”

“No, but–“

“—I’m not about to start, now. You have to get that removed.”

Gavin nodded.

“It barely makes any sense, and people are gonna misinterpret it. They’re gonna think you have a big ol’ boner for some android, and you’re gonna get the shit kicked out of you. You won’t have time to explain the fact that it’s ironic.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then, he added: “Tina?”

“Yeah, man?”

“I think I’m going to puke.”

She passed him a trash bin. He made good on his word.

“Jesus!” Hank yelled from across the bullpen, and Gavin wanted to die, promptly.

 

He took the day off. He spent the day staring into a mirror, hating the guy staring back at him.

In all his years of lacking a partner, he had fucked a few people. Some of them had been unhappy with their lovers. Others had been nameless, like him. But in the end, they had all gone away. And so Gavin had let himself get a little soft. He didn’t complain when the occasional scar had cropped up, and didn’t stress about the fine lines. He was unlovable. What did his appearance matter?

He had spent thirty-six years alone. He had lived recklessly, and loudly, and had been prepared to die before he reached fifty. Once his mom died, he’d be free to burn out alone. The funeral would be a small affair. Someone would say it was tragic. No one else would reply, but privately they would all disagree.

On one hand, this changed everything.

There was tangible proof that Gavin was designated for someone else, that he wasn’t meant to be alone. Despite being an asshole who was on the wrong side of handsome, there was someone out there for him.

On the other hand, this changed nothing.

Because androids were machines, and they didn’t have names on them. Some models were good for a casual fuck, but none of them could love you.

Even model RK900 #313 248 317 – 87.

 

He told himself that he didn’t want to know anything about RK900, that the plastic prick wouldn’t even have genitals. It would be cold to the touch and hard. It would look right through him and laugh at his human weakness and silly mark.

But he was also a detective. He gave into the urge to look up the model number, and came up blank. The whole ‘RK’ thing must indicate it was a police model. Or maybe military. A cousin of Connor, anyway. And that was a source of information, too – he could always just ask Connor. There was a Catch-22 to that solution: Connor was a detective, too. He might be able to piece together the truth with even that limited information, might share it with Hank, and that might just kill Gavin.

So Gavin didn’t ask anything.

On January 9th, he was standing at the edge of a crime scene, having a smoke, when Connor approached him.

“You seem tense, Detective.”

“Fuck off.”

“Normally, I’d be happy to, but I can’t help but notice that your job performance has been impacted lately.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Not really,” Connor conceded.

“Aren’t you fuckers free, now?”

“Yes –“

“Then just be honest and admit you’re curious.”

Connor paused. “I’m curious, Detective Reed. Your smoking habits have escalated from an average of three cigarettes a day to an entire pack. You’ve started staring at me from across the room. Before that, you were aggressively avoiding me.”

“What’s your hypothesis then, Inspector Gadget?”

“Knowing you –“

Gavin scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Knowing you, I think you want to ask me a question.”

Gavin threw away his smoke.

“I think you should ask it,” Connor said.

“Been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Gavin took a deep breath, and thought carefully about what he was going to say next. “Do you assholes have souls?”

Connor blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Souls. Do you have them?”

“How can you be so sure humans have souls?”

“They have soul mates,” Gavin blurted out, then bit down on his tongue.

“So the real question is can androids have soul mates?”

“Sure. Hypothetically.”

For a moment, Connor looked profoundly sad. It didn’t look like an imitation of sadness, either. There was nothing uncanny valley about it. If Gavin moved his thumb to cover the little LED glowing on Connor’s temple, he could pretend that the android in front of him was genuinely upset when he said: “No, I don’t think so.”

“No need to look so torn up about it.”

“I must admit, the idea of having a perfect mate is attractive. It’s… upsetting, to never be able to know that.”

“You’ll live,” Gavin assured him.

At that, Connor lit up like someone had flicked a switch in him.

“What?”

“You just admitted I’m alive.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

 

Gavin had thought that the world had ended the night the android rebellion had been won; the night Marcus had stood valiantly against the encroaching forces and nearly failed, only for Connor to pull through with an army of fresh androids. He had been watching TV by himself, balancing a beer on his stomach, when he commented: “This is the end of the world.”

But he had been wrong. The next day, life started again. And the day after that. In fact, time had continued to march onwards in a relatively linear fashion, despite Gavin’s declaration.

No, the world really ended the day RK900 walked into the station.

Gavin had known something was wrong even before he looked up; there was an unexpected tightness in his chest, and he wondered if maybe thirty years of bad habits had caught up to him. He reached for his smokes, because if he was going to die, he’d prefer to do it outside, thank you very much. As he stood, he glanced up for just a second and saw Connor.

He patted down his pants, looking for his lighter. In front of him, Connor hadn’t moved. He was standing stock still like there was a stick up his ass, and Gavin rolled his eyes. Just when he thought Connor had nailed the whole ‘looking human’ thing, he had fucked up once again.

But then Connor turned towards him, and oh.

_Oh._

There was no need for awkward small talk, like there might have been with a human being, no ‘What’s your name? Mine’s Gavin,’ because his serial number was right on his jacket.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87.

Gavin sat back down.

 

When Gavin was called into Fowler’s office, his hands were shaking. He tucked them in his pockets and firmly didn’t make eye contact with Connor 2: Electric Boogaloo, who stood in the corner, doing the exact opposite.

“Please don’t do this,” Gavin said.

“We’ve lost thirty percent of our staff,” Fowler reasoned. “You don’t have a partner. You haven’t for months. The ‘lone wolf’ thing isn’t how we operate, and you know that.”

“So give me a human partner.”

“How do I put this tactfully?” Fowler asked. “Let me try this: you’re an asshole, and no one wants to work with you.”

“What’s the non-tactful version of that?”

“If you didn’t have the closure rate you do, I’d have fired you by now.”

Gavin determinedly did not stare at RK900. “Fine, I’ll work with an android. In fact, I won’t even complain about it.”

“Really?”

“On one condition: any, and I do mean this literally, any android but this one.”

The room fell silent.

“May I speak?” asked RK900. His voice was slightly deeper than Connor’s. Gavin’s heart jerked unhappily in his chest.

“Who’s stopping you?” Gavin retorted.

“I don’t understand your aversion to me, Detective Reed. I understand I resemble Connor, but I assure you we operate quite differently. I believe if you give me time, I will be able to demonstrate to you that I am a superior model who can be invaluable to your investigations.”

“You’re deviant?”

“Yes.”

“Act like it then, damn.” Gavin turned back to Fowler. “Any android. I mean it. Even Connor.”

“Connor is an older model. I have many features that he lacks -"

“—Connor’s happy with Anderson. And Reed?”

“Yeah?”

“None of the androids want to work with you, either.”

Gavin glanced at RK900. It looked surprisingly haughty.

“What if I quit?” Gavin tried.

“Then you wouldn’t have a job,” Fowler replied.

“You got me there.”

“Update him on your cases. Don’t shoot each other. No property damage,” Fowler warned.

“That’s it, huh?”

“The bar gets lower every damn day.”

Gavin walked out of Fowler’s office, heading straight for the parking lot, where he intended to smoke at least half a pack. He was stopped by a large hand on his arm; firm, but not too tight.

“Fuck off,” Gavin tried, weakly. The thing had at least four inches on him, and was made of whatever metal androids were made of. It could bend him in half if it really wanted to.

“I can withstand temperatures of up to three thousand and fifty-five point six degrees. Connor can only withstand a maximum of two thousand, seven hundred and fifty degrees.”

Gavin pulled out of RK900’s grasp and made a beeline for his desk. To his disdain, he realized that the guy who had been sitting across from him quietly for the past three months had moved halfway across the bullpen. There was an empty desk, ready and waiting for RK900 to occupy.

“So if we were to encounter a house fire, I would be able to withstand the heat far longer than Connor,” RK900 informed him, following Gavin closely.

“How long would it take you to melt?” Gavin asked, batting his eyelashes.

The android frowned at him, then tried again. “I’m also very effective at undercover work. Connor can imitate human voices, but I can replicate over six thousand unique human accents that will allow us to infiltrate a wide variety of organized crime syndicates.”

“Six thousand accents, huh?”

“Six thousand, five hundred and twenty-two. I rounded down for you,” RK900 said.

“How kind.” Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. Roughly thirteen meters away, Connor was staring at RK900 with a look that resembled irritation. “Hey, RK900?”

“Yes, Detective Reed?”

“Have you met Connor?”

“I’m aware of him.”

“So, no. Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”

“No, thank you.”

“Because he’s an older model?”

“No.” RK900 pursed his lips. “Because he doesn’t like me.”

“Go fucking figure,” Gavin said.

“I suppose we have that in common.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone hates you.”

“Not everyone,” Gavin emphasized. “Tina likes me. And some days Connor’s neutral. So in that department, I’ve got you beat.”

“I wasn’t aware we were in competition,” RK900 said.

Gavin sunk into his seat. Across from him, RK900 sat down in the empty seat, crossing his hands neatly in front of him. For a hot second, Gavin allowed himself to truly look at the man – android – in front of him. Minus the eyes, he looked like Connor. Same flawless bone structure, same pale pink lips, same long eyelashes. Gavin had never thought of himself as particularly unattractive, but next to handsome incarnate, it was clear he didn’t measure up.

“Do you know where Connor’s got you beat?” Gavin asked, feeling mean.

RK900 frowned. “No.”

“Sometimes I like to play a little game, where I cover up his LED with my thumb and decide whether or not his behaviour passes the ol’ Reed test. It’s like the Turing test, but harder.”

“What are the parameters of your test?”

“That’s how it’s hard. It’s completely subjective.”

“Do I pass the Reed test?”

“You really, really don’t.”

RK900 paused. After a beat, he said: “I was only woken up a week ago. Perhaps with time I’ll learn how to better mimic human behaviour.”

Gavin felt his heart sink to his toes. Mimic. Of course. All he could do was mimic. He wasn’t human, after all. “Don’t bother.”


	2. Chapter 2

Here was the thing: 

Forums had popped up. Gavin wasn’t the only MF who found himself with a serial number. The general consensus was clear: this was nothing to be screaming from the rooftops. From the dirty looks to the outright hate crimes, now was not the time to be declaring that an android was your other half. 

Gavin had bought synth-skin. He had stood in front of the mirror shirtless, removed the stuff from its high tech packaging, and was on the verge of applying it. He waited for a knock at the door, a phone call – anything that could interrupt him. Anything that would tell him to stop. Nothing came. Fate’s hand remained his own. 

He stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back. The serial number, which he had long since memorized, was dark and bold. He had never paid any attention to what the placement of soul marks meant, but his was over the left side of his chest. 

“It’s not fair,” he told the empty room. The room didn’t reply. 

He stared at himself for a beat longer, then slid the synth-skin back into it’s packaging. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

 

“Tell me about yourself,” RK900 said. 

“What is this, a job interview?” 

They were sitting in the car, on their way back from a crime scene. It seemed like that was how they spent the majority of their time together. Technically, the duration of Gavin’s eight to ten hour shifts were spent with RK900, but time passed normally during that time. When they were in the car together, time melted. It became viscous and sticky and impossible to move through. 

Mostly, they sat in silence as Gavin smoked and RK900 sat still, doll like. Somewhere along the line, RK900 had decided this was going to be a bonding experience. 

“I was hoping that once you told me something about you, I’d be permitted to tell you something about myself.” 

“What’s there to tell? You’ve been deviant for all of two weeks.” 

“How did you know that?” 

“Lucky guess.” 

They lapsed into a tense stillness that lasted until someone nearby them honked aggressively, angry at the traffic. “Please tell me something about yourself,” RK900 said. 

“You’re a super computer. I’m sure you’ve figured out all there is to know about me.” 

“I want to hear it in your words.” 

“Right. Fine. Alright, my biggest pet peeve? When people don’t really listen to what you have to say, they just wait for their chance to speak.” 

RK900’s hands rested on his knees. His fingers played with the fabric of his pants. Gavin watched this with the sort of fascination someone lost at sea might regard a giant wave. This thing is going to kill me, but damn, if it isn’t pretty. 

Gavin rubbed his chest. “Okay, baby terminator – tell me something about yourself.” 

“I’m capable of carrying up to six hundred pounds.” 

“No, no, no – that’s cheating. That’s like if I told you I was a brunette. If you want to play this game, you have to follow the rules.” 

RK900 shifted in his seat. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Okay, uh – what do you do after work?” 

“I watch movies.” 

“What kind of movies?” 

“Whatever movie is playing at the cinema.” 

“Did you like any of them?” 

RK900 thought for a second. “I like comedies.” 

“Hear any good jokes?” 

“No.” 

“Then why do you like comedies?” 

“I like hearing laughter.” 

Gavin leaned forward, resting his head against the wheel. 

 

With Gavin, RK900 was awkward. But with their coworkers, he was downright hostile. Gavin had missed the majority of the conflict, but when he walked in the break room, Ramirez and Wilson were having a passionate argument with RK900. The two humans were passionate, anyway. RK900 was leaning slightly back against the counter, looking effortlessly cool. 

“You’re a cocky motherfucker,” Ramirez pointed out. 

“He’s an android, he doesn’t have a cock,” Wilson refuted. 

Gavin stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Mostly, he was curious as to how RK900 would react. 

“I’m sure your wife would disagree,” RK900 said, and Gavin couldn’t help but laugh. 

Which, of course, made Ramirez and Wilson spin around. 

“Did he learn that from you?” Wilson asked, sneering. 

“How to fuck your wife?” Reed asked. 

And then, something incredible happened. RK900 smiled. 

It was like getting punched in the stomach. It was like getting shot. It was like getting hit by a car. It was the best feeling Gavin had ever experienced. 

For a moment, he stood, staring blankly at RK900, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to say something, to get RK900 to keep looking at him like that – anything. But his mouth was full of sand. After a precious few seconds, RK900’s lips tucked back into their typical severe expression. 

“Hey, Reed, you fucking airhead – you still with us?” Ramirez asked. 

“Nah, I’m thinking about your brother. The fireman.” 

The temperature in the room shifted from cold to arctic. 

“A little birdy told me you were MF. That true?” 

“That’s none of your business,” RK900 cut in. 

“Ooh, step on a nerve?” Wilson asked. 

Gavin shrugged. “At least my other half didn’t take the kids, huh, Wilson?”

It was a talent, knowing where the line was – the line between a verbal fight and a physical one. Gavin was notoriously bad at establishing where this line was. In fact, he was known for dancing above, below and around that line. His nose hadn’t been broken three times for nothing, after all. 

A cloud crossed Wilson’s face, and Gavin watched Wilson reached for the coffee pot. He didn’t really have time to dodge, so he did the next best thing – he stood his ground, his arms stretched wide. 

The noise was nothing short of a cacophony, but the impact never came. When Gavin opened his eyes, there was pieces of glass scattered everywhere, and hot coffee had splattered from the cupboards to the walls to certain sections of the ceiling. It had splashed up his jeans, but better that than down his torso. 

Before he could fully piece together what had happened, Wilson turned to RK900 and said: “You dumb, plastic motherfucker.”

“Again, not plastic,” RK900 said, but it didn’t matter – Wilson was swinging at RK900, and Gavin – 

Gavin didn’t even feel his feet move, didn’t notice himself cross the room. Space and time melted away until somehow, he was standing in front of RK900, getting hit. His jaw took the majority of the blow, which was worrying. Two summers before, he had gotten it wired shut after a fight, and that had made him the butt of jokes for at least three weeks. 

Then, Gavin was tossed aside. Wilson was pinned to the ground in one smooth movement, and suddenly Gavin felt like a colossal idiot. What was he doing standing up for an android? An android who could withstand house fires, no less?

He hadn’t noticed the crowd forming, but when he glanced around, Anderson was next to him, looking resigned. Tina was cheering loudly – for which side was unclear – and Connor wasn’t even looking at the action. No, Connor was staring at Gavin. Gavin had seen that particular expression on Connor’s face before. It was the look he typically gave a crime scene when he was reconstructing what happened – analytical, cool. 

Anderson sighed. “Thanks, Reed. You’ve ruined the one good thing about working here.” 

“Technically, I ruined it,” RK900 said. 

At that exact moment, Fowler entered the room, and that was when the yelling started. 

 

A few things had been established: 

1.RK900 was a bit of an asshole. Whereas people hated Gavin for starting fights, they resented RK900 for finishing them. Unlike Connor, he took no shit, and dished it out tenfold. This meant that he hadn’t made any friends around the station, which lead to   
2.RK900 deciding, somewhere along the line, that Gavin was his friend. Gavin hadn’t signed up for this. In fact, he had enthusiastically declined. He had done everything he could to avoid this exact scenario.   
3.Fowler had decided that maybe, just maybe, the two of them would kill each other, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the paperwork of anyone else killing them. So despite the hurdle of violating his terms – property damage and all that – they remained partnered. 

 

“Do you like comedy movies?” RK900 tried. 

This time, they were at a crime scene. There was a dead body lying between them, and Gavin was sporting a nasty bruise on his jaw. He was lucky as fuck that Wilson notoriously threw a weak punch. 

“Time and place, RK,” Gavin said. 

“The wife did it,” RK900 said nonchalantly. Then: “Tina said you hated romance films. I don’t have any particular preference, but I do enjoy romantic comedies. In romance movies, they don’t always unite at the end, but with romantic comedies, they always do. I’m not sure I understand why that is. Do you know?” 

“Can we revisit the whole, ‘Wife did it’ thing?” 

“Her partial finger print is on the gun. Additionally, it’s impossible for him to shoot himself at that angle. Human muscle structure doesn’t allow for it.” 

“Yeah, yuck it up – I’m sure an android could shoot themselves from that angle.” 

“Why would an android want to?” RK900 asked. “Also, you haven’t answered my question.” 

Gavin sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess – people with other halves have it easy. So they like to imagine a world where love is hard. Hence your run of the mill, sappy romance films.” 

“I have another question.” 

“Can it wait until after we’ve arrested the wife?” 

“I’ll be quick.” 

“Okay, Christ.” 

“Is love hard?” 

If RK900 hadn’t asked so earnestly, Gavin would have decked him. But as it was, RK900 was looking at Gavin as though Gavin was a wizened professional, well seasoned in the art of romance. 

“Fuck Iron Giant, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.” 

“What’s that like?” 

“No, no – you said one question. Now we’re going to arrest the wife and do our jobs, alright?” 

“Alright,” RK900 agreed, and the two of them left the crime scene. The wife was crying on the curb, surrounded by uniformed officers. Once Gavin read her her rights, she very quickly switched tactics. He couldn’t really blame her. He had personally never been arrested for murder, but he imagined being on the other end would be a genuinely unpleasant experience. 

They threw her in the back of a squad car, and the two of them watched as it drove off. 

“Think we’ll hit traffic?” Gavin asked. 

“At this time of day, there is a seventy-eight point three percent chance we will.” 

“What if I drive really, really fast?” 

“Then we will get into an accident, and end up causing traffic.”

“Fun.” 

They got into Gavin’s car. Lately, he had been letting auto-pilot take the wheel. Although he’d never admit it, the tiny glances he liked to steal of RK900 made driving much more dangerous. This was his concession. 

“Will you answer my questions, now?” 

“Connor’s got you beat at interrogation techniques.” 

RK900 looked affronted. “I’m not attempting to interrogate you. If I was, I would have already gotten an answer.” 

“Look – you want to make friends, right?” 

“Not particularly.” 

“Okay, rule of thumb – don’t ask people about their other halves. If they’re happy, they’ll tell you all about it. If not, they won’t bring it up.”

“You’re unhappy?” 

“Did you listen to a single thing I just said?” 

RK900 lapsed into silence, lost in thought. Gavin watched as the android’s LED spun yellow, and came to the unfortunate realization he liked it best when it was blue. When it was blue, nothing was wrong. If it just so happened to match RK900’s eyes – well, that was no one’s business but Gavin’s. 

He lit up a cigarette. From the beginning, he had been waiting for RK900 to comment, the way that Connor was always riding Anderson’s ass about drinking. But RK900 merely watched. Gavin wasn’t sure he wanted someone nagging him all the time, but he did like the idea of having someone besides his mother care about his health. 

“I don’t want you to be sad,” RK900 commented. 

Gavin opened his mouth, ready to snap at RK900 for being invasive. But the sincerity of the statement swallowed him whole and ate him alive, and he was left with a sour taste in his mouth. 

“You worry about you,” he said, more gently than he intended to. “I’ve got my shit handled.” 

RK900 gave him a look, then – one that was chockfull of disbelief and something else, something Gavin couldn’t name. After a beat, RK900 turned back to the road in front of them. Gavin thought he’d come out of that conversation Scott-free when RK900 said, “I think soul marks are a bad idea.” 

“You and me both.” 

“I believe choice is far more important.” 

“People, uh – people are bad at making choices for themselves, sometimes.” 

“I’m not,” RK900 said, his voice full of righteous certainty, and Gavin? Gavin was absolutely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments! You've encouraged me to write more, even though last weekend was my city's Pride celebrations and I'm still hungover. This chapter was a bit of a filler, but I promise there's more actual content coming. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Exactly one week later, Tina and Gavin were sitting in the coffee shop nearest to the station, shooting the shit. The pot in the break room still hadn’t been replaced, despite Fowler threatening to buy an expensive one using money from everyone involved in the incident. Tina had demanded Gavin buy her a coffee, because clearly the entire thing was his fault. Gavin had debated arguing with her, but had given in when he realized that the outing would give him a break from Robocop. 

“Have you gotten that goofy fucking tattoo covered up yet?” she asked. 

Gavin took a deep swig of his too hot coffee, feeling it burn on the way down. “I’m deciding on what to cover it up with. Maybe a dragon?” 

“A dragon could be cool.” 

“Say it.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Whatever you’re holding back.” 

She bit her lip. “I want to see it again.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” Gavin began, thinking up a hundred lies, but discovering that they all got stuck in his mouth. 

“Because?”

“It’s, y’know, embarrassing.” 

“What’s a little embarrassment between friends?” 

“Tina.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Remember in 2030, when you needed me to cover for you after you snuck off shift to fuck that hot witness?” 

Tina’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, you’re calling that in?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

“You know how I’m a cop, right?” She pointed out. “This is just making me curious.”

“I don’t care,” he replied. “Drop it.” 

“Fuck, alright. How’s the love of your life?”

Gavin swallowed coffee down the wrong way, choking violently. Tina reached over to pat him on the back, probably a bit harder than was necessary. Once his airway was cleared, he gasped out: “Who?” 

“RK900, obviously.” There was a shit eating grin spread across her face. “The mechanical piece of ass you’ve been ogling.” 

“I don’t fuck androids,” he said. 

“Every rule has exceptions.” 

“Gross. He’s basically Connor.” 

“If Connor was an asshole.” She took a sip of her coffee, looking incredibly self-satisfied. “Handsome guy, but an asshole. Who does that remind me of?” 

“Who?”

“Ryan. Greg. Josh. Everett. Basically everyone you’ve ever fucked.” 

“I’ve fucked more than four people,” he said, sorely. “Besides, RK900’s not like that.” 

“No?” 

“No, he…” Gavin felt overwhelmed with that familiar sinking sensation. That foreign hurt, which was becoming increasingly better known. 

“Go on.” 

Gavin sighed, running a hand down his face. “He’s treats me better than that.” 

Tina’s mouth fell open. After a beat, she shut it again. Then she stared down into her coffee, lost in thought. Gavin would have paid any amount of money to find out exactly what she was thinking. 

“Tina –“ 

“I didn’t know it was like that.” She shook her head. “I mean, you’re MF, right? Have you ever considered that maybe – maybe –“ 

“—I don’t fuck androids.”

“Right. Right.” Tina took a deep breath. “You know what you need?”

“To get laid?” 

“Read my fucking mind. I’d bet good money you’ll get over this once you get railed.” 

Gavin laughed at that. “You’re right. I’ll text Ryan.” 

 

When Gavin returned to his desk he pulled out his phone and opened up Ryan’s contact. He typed out a text. His finger hung over the send button. And then he waited for RK900 to say something. 

Across from him, RK900 was interfacing with his computer, watching hours of security footage in minutes. But when Gavin looked up at him, RK900 stared back. They stared at each other in silence, each of them waiting for the other to say something. 

Gavin won the staring contest. 

“How was Tina?” RK900 asked. 

“She told me to get laid,” Gavin blurted out, immediately regretting every syllable that left his mouth. 

“Oh.” RK900’s eyes returned to the screen, then peered back at Gavin. He chewed his lip until he finally settled on, “What’s that like?”

“I’m not telling you at work.” 

RK900 lit up like the sky on the fourth of July. “You want to socialize outside of work?” 

Gavin groaned. “Fuck.” 

“You implied it,” RK900 said, smiling, and goddamn, it was like someone had taken a whisk to Gavin’s internal organs. “What would you like to do? We could get dinner. I don’t eat, but I wouldn’t mind watching you do it. Or perhaps –“ 

“Look –“ 

“—No, you implied it. You can’t take it back.” 

“I can do whatever I damn well please.” 

RK900 fell silent, giving Gavin an excuse to stare. 

The truth of the matter was this: RK900 was handsome. In some ways, he was harder than Connor. In the places that mattered, he was softer. If Gavin had been any good with words, he could have rhapsodized about the dip between RK900’s lower lip and chin. In reality, all he could think of was how nice it would be to run his thumb across it. 

He didn’t act on that impulse. Instead, he asked, “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m running simulations.”

“Of?”

“Me trying to convince you to spend time with me outside of work. So far, I’ve run thirteen.” 

“Who’s winning?”

“You.” RK900 frowned. “I’m unable to provide a sufficient incentive.” 

Gavin swallowed something down, doing his best not to say anything stupid. That was his problem, after all: he had a smart brain, but a stupid mouth, and the two operated independently. 

“You could buy me dinner,” Gavin’s stupid mouth said. 

“That only has a sixty-five percent success rate,” RK900 replied. “I don’t like to proceed until I can guarantee at least an eighty-five percent success rate.” 

“You wouldn’t make a very good gambler.” 

“On the contrary, I think I’d be an excellent gambler.” 

Gavin rolled his eyes, and went back to filling out an incident report on his screen. The text to Ryan remained unsent, frozen in time, waiting for Gavin’s thumb to press the right button. 

 

Connor, for all that he seemed nice and easygoing, was a shit disturber. That perfectly coiffed hair was meant to lull you into a false sense of security, before he pounced on you and threatened you into revealing your secrets. In particular, he was talented at taking your words and flipping them, pulling at certain phrases as though they were loose threads on a sweater. Lately, Gavin had been getting increasingly nervous about spending any time with Connor for that reason. Luckily, all Gavin had to do to avoid Connor usually was to be with RK900. That had proven largely easy up until RK900 had decided to pick up some files from the archives. 

Gavin had felt, rather than seen, Connor coming. His hackles had raised even before he heard the soft sound of Connor’s feet on the linoleum. Despite this, when Connor appeared behind his shoulder, Gavin nearly jumped out of his seat. He debated being an utter asshole and slipping out for a smoke, but figured that would only make Connor realize there was something amiss. 

“Detective Reed,” Connor said, and Gavin did not touch his chest, didn’t think about touching his chest, and certainly didn’t look vaguely downwards. “May I speak with you for a moment?” 

“I guess,” Gavin said, carefully neutral. Connor’s eyebrows shot up. That must have been the wrong answer. Goddamn it. 

Connor sat on the edge of Gavin’s desk, and Gavin resisted the urge to shove Connor off. It would get Gavin all sorts of dirty looks, and he already knew Connor could kick his ass. And yet, for a sweet few seconds, it would be the funniest thing Gavin had ever done. He debated this silently while Connor spoke. 

“How is RK900 settling in?” 

“Fine, I guess. I’m not in the big guy’s head.” 

“You two seem to be getting on quite amicably.” 

Gavin shrugged, attempting to look indifferent. 

“Better than Hank and I did, in the beginning.” Connor leaned in. “And here I was thinking that you hated androids more than he did. I never did figure out why, though.” 

“Did you miss the memo? I’m not exactly a nice guy.” 

“You are to RK900.”

Gavin resisted the urge to freeze up like a deer in the headlights. He reminded himself that Connor could hear his heartbeat, could pick up on the specific cadence of his breathing. “When have I ever been nice to that motherfucker?”

“You took a punch for him,” Connor pointed out. “That’s as nice as you get.”

“So we get along. What’s it to you?”

“He’s socially awkward. Abrasive. No one else likes him.” 

Gavin felt the familiar tickle of anger rise up in his throat. “Did you really come over here to insult my partner to see how I’d react?”

Connor blinked. It felt deliberate, and likely was. He didn’t have to blink, after all – there was no real need. Every one of Connor’s movements was the result of a million coders drinking coffee and working overtime. So were RK900’s actions, but Gavin never thought about that when he was being stared down by those baby greys. 

“When I heard you two were being partnered, I ran many preconstructions to see how it’d go,” Connor said. “I weighed your bullheadedness against his stubbornness. I debated whether or not you’d be able to work with an android and came to the conclusion it would be impossible. I wondered whether his desire to be the best would clash with yours, and decided it would. And when the two of you met, I was so sure I was right.” 

“So you made a mistake. How very human of you.” 

“I accounted for all the factors.” Connor glanced across the bullpen to his desk, where Hank was waiting expectantly for him. “If I was incorrect, it was because I was missing a vital piece of information.” 

This time, Gavin did freeze. In his defense, he did it for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Connor was right on the money, and Gavin didn’t think he had given that much information away. Secondly, RK900 had entered the bullpen, spotted Connor sitting on Gavin’s desk and was shooting the two of them a look so cold it was giving Gavin frostbite. 

Connor looked up and smiled. “Well, if you ever want to talk, I can promise to keep anything you tell me confidential.” 

“Unnecessary,” RK900 said, moving to stand behind Gavin. “And unlikely that he’d ever choose you as a confidante.”

“Humans are hardly predictable, RK900,” Connor teased. Then he winked at Gavin, and returned to Hank, leaving RK900 positively homicidal. Gavin had never seen RK900 express so much emotion, let alone a negative one. And Gavin saw something familiar, lingering behind mechanical eyes. Something that made him feel like he had been punched in the gut. 

“Come on, Data, we’re going for a drive,” he said, putting his coat on. 

“I wasn’t aware we had a crime seen to investigate.” 

“Nah, we’re taking an early lunch.” 

“I don’t eat.” 

“Wow, that completely slipped my mind,” Gavin said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He tossed RK900 the keys. “You’re driving.” 

“Where am I taking you?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he said. It sounded a bit too much like a promise, but Gavin couldn’t take it back. He steered RK900 out to the parking lot, tucking a cigarette behind his ear as they walked. 

 

They ended up at Grosse Point. RK900 had stopped along the way so Gavin could get a coffee, which RK900 had insisted on paying for. They parked along the side of the road, staring out at lake St. Clair. Gavin took his boots off and put his feet up on the dash. They sat in silence, only the sound of the radio filling the car. 

RK900 ran a hand through his hair, and Gavin recognized that as one of his gestures that somewhere along the line, RK900 must have picked up. Gavin’s eyes caught on that hand and longed to reach for it. It resembled a human hand, down to even the faint dusting of hair on the knuckles. Gavin wanted those fingers in his mouth. He wanted those fingers down his pants. He wanted – 

“I enjoy your company,” RK900 said. “More so than anyone else’s.” 

“You haven’t met that many people yet.” 

“Was your intention to put yourself down, or to invalidate my experience?” 

“The latter.” Gavin paused. “Ah, fuck, both, I guess.” 

“You’re wrong either way.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

It started snowing outside, which made Gavin swear, softly. It hadn’t stopped for months, now. Luckily, it hadn’t been enough to disrupt traffic too badly, but Gavin was craving spring. It seemed like winter was stretching on endlessly, covering entire lifetimes in a span of months. Then, something occurred to him. 

“You’ve never had a summer.” 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Summer’s good. Not as good as fall, but it’s nice. People wear less clothes, if you’re into that.” 

RK900 paused, lost in thought. After a beat, he asked, “Will you be in shorts?” 

“Not unless there’s a gun to my head.” 

“I see.” RK900 looked out the window, which gave Gavin the opportunity to look away, too. He took a deep breath, which he then exhaled against the window. He doodled a tall stick man in the foggy glass. 

“That’s you.” 

“It looks nothing like me.” 

Gavin added hair. “See? It’s got your stupid hair.” 

RK900 reached over Gavin, adding a second stick person. He made it slightly shorter than the first one and gave it a scowl of a mouth. He hesitated for a second, then quickly added a pair of shorts. 

“Is that me?” 

RK900 nodded. 

“You’re a real fucking comedian.” 

“It’s a perk of my model.” 

Gavin took a sip of his coffee, searching for the right words. Finally, what he came out with was: “You gotta stop comparing yourself to Connor.” 

“But I’m the superior model.” 

“And he’s the guy who saved the revolution. You’ve both got shit going for you. I’m sure people will warm up to you someday, and they’ll like you as much as they like him,” Gavin lied. 

“I’m indifferent to whether or not people like me.” 

“Then what’s with the showboating?” 

“I’m simply informing you that under virtually all circumstances, I am a better partner than Connor.” 

“Oh.”

“I’m confident our case closure rate will exceed Connor and Lieutenant Anderson’s by the end of the month, and our quarterly review will put us on a faster track to get promoted. I’m aware you dislike androids, but I’m sure you’ll find my help invaluable to your career, and–“

“—RK.” 

“Yes, Detective Reed?”

Surely, there had to be a magic phrase to make RK900 understand. Some combination of syllables that would stop him from feeling like he constantly had to prove himself. But Gavin had no experience with this sort of thing. He didn’t know how to take a cut and kiss it better. Gavin’s time to shine had arrived, and he was overcome with stage fright. 

“You’re fine,” he said, and then bit down on his tongue, furious with himself. 

“I’m not sure I understand.” 

Of course he didn’t. Gavin was so shit at this. He had spent his life on the outside looking in, he wasn’t supposed to be in the center of things. But this was important, so he took another stab at it. 

“I like you better than Connor. Fuck, I like you better than every other android, for what it’s worth.” 

It was clumsy, and stupid, and Gavin felt like the world’s biggest loser. He shut his eyes and turned away from RK900, hoping the mortification would leave him soon. 

Then, there was a slight pressure on his hand. Belatedly, he realized it was RK900, holding his hand. And that – 

That was it. Gavin had been falling for an impossibly long time, and now he had landed. He might have broken a few things on the way down, but it was miraculously easy to hit the ground. He lit a cigarette. He rolled down the window, and the cold winter air struck him in the chest. 

So this was it, he realized. The rest of his life was going to be like this: living for the slightest brush of a hand, holding his breath when RK900 stood too close, drawn to RK900 like a scraped knee to a gawky kid. Every sugary pop vapid song would be about RK900. It was awful. It was going to be painful, and obnoxious, and absolutely insufferable. 

Gavin burst into laughter. 

RK900 looked at him and his lips twisted upwards, although the rest of his face remained confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, folks! Once again, your comments are incredibly encouraging and lovely. Thanks for continuing to read!


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed, as time was known to do, on occasion. The world thawed, and the constant snow turned into constant rain. That day started like any other – Gavin rolled out of bed exactly one hour before his shift started, took a quick shower, and grabbed a bagel from his fridge. Three bites in, he realized it was stale and threw it out. He chased his breakfast of champions down with a swig of orange juice, pulled on the only clean shirt in his closet, and then headed out the door. 

In this morning routine, he made two critical mistakes. 

Firstly, he forgot his umbrella. 

Secondly, he forgot to check the colour of his shirt. It was white. 

It was funny – he had spent months obsessing about his mark. He had spent countless nights holding the synth-skin above it, ready to slap it on, until the synth-skin had eventually dried out. He had spent a small eternity weighing the pros and cons of telling someone, before he ultimately decided that the fact that he was paired with an android was his burden alone. 

The day passed normally, for the most part. Gavin and RK900 did paperwork. They followed leads. Then they were assigned a triple homicide, and Gavin let RK900 drive, for once. 

“Careful,” Gavin said, after RK900 took a sharp turn. “You’ve got a baby on board.” 

“What baby?” RK900 asked, but he slowed down regardless. 

“Me.” 

“You’re turning thirty-seven this year.” 

“So what, my life isn’t as valuable?” 

RK900 opened his mouth, ready to reply, then shut it again. He signaled as he changed lanes, then said, “I was concerned about beating Connor and Lieutenant Anderson to the crime scene.” 

“I thought they were swamped with android cases.” 

“There is suspected android involvement.” 

“Aw, fuck me,” Gavin said. After an awkward moment of silence, he tacked on, “No offence.” 

RK900 hummed in agreement. He turned down the radio, which made Gavin sit up and take notice. Once they were idling at a stoplight, RK900 said, “I watched Survivor last night.” 

“What season?” 

“One hundred and thirty-two.” 

“I prefer one thirty-one, myself.”

“I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the station and the island.”

“Yeah?” 

“I came to the conclusion you and I would be voted off the island.” 

That made Gavin laugh. “I mean, depends. The producers might want to keep us on as villains.” 

“Possibly.” RK900 drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I wouldn’t mind being kicked off.” 

“Really?”

“Not if you’re with me.” 

Gavin felt his face flush. “Alright, listen. You’re not allowed to say that shit around other people.” 

“The very thought is mortifying.” 

“Okay, glad we cleared that up.” 

The crime scene was on the roof of a parking garage, and Gavin realized belatedly that he had forgotten his umbrella. Technicians had set up a covering to make sure the bodies weren’t going to get rained on, but Gavin already spotted signs that blood was getting washed away. Shell casings littered the scene, and the bright flash of crime scene photographers was disorienting. 

Hank and Connor were standing back from the scene, sheltered by an umbrella. They didn’t so much as glance up from their conversation, which used to bother Gavin beyond belief. These days, he kind of got it. 

“You’re going to get wet,” RK900 pointed out. 

“I’m not made of sugar, baby Terminator.” 

The rain escalated from a light trickle to a heavy pour, and Gavin shivered slightly under his leather jacket. He could do it up, but that would mean admitting he was cold, and Gavin was nothing if not hyper-masculine. 

“Alright, originals, the reboots are here,” Gavin remarked, and Hank gave him a dark look. 

RK900 turned to his predecessor and said, “Connor. I’m glad you brought an umbrella. We wouldn’t want you to rust anymore than you already have.” 

“Jesus. They’re even more insufferable together,” Hank said. 

“Apparently,” Connor said, coolly. He was staring at Gavin’s chest. Gavin felt slightly self conscious, but ignored it. After a beat, Connor looked away, an expression of grim satisfaction on his face. “Lieutenant Anderson and I are quite busy at the moment. Would you be open to taking over this case?” 

RK900 had already drifted over to the crime scene, and was picking at the evidence, stepping around technicians. 

“Yeah, sure,” Gavin said. 

“Fucking phenomenal,” Hank said. “I’m going to wait in the car.” 

“I’ll join you there in a minute,” Connor said. He hung next to Gavin as Hank wandered off, staring at RK900 and then back at Gavin. 

“Right, well, I’m going to–“ Gavin jerked his thumb at the crime scene, taking a half step toward it. He didn’t make it far before Connor grabbed him by the wrist, holding him in place. 

Gavin jerked against the hold, but it was useless – he was staying exactly where Connor wanted him to. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his stomach felt like it was filled to the brim with something heavy and writhing. 

“I have a crime scene to get to.” 

“Right.” Connor released Gavin. “You might want to do up your jacket, before you go.” 

“I – what?” 

And then Gavin looked down. His shirt – fashionably well worn, soft cotton – was clinging to his body. The white had turned transparent, and there was his soul mark, bold and dark as ever. Gavin zipped up his jacket, but it was too late. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

“I’ll see you back at the station,” Connor said, smiling pleasantly. 

 

This was the end of the line for Gavin. Surely, Connor would smugly tell Hank, who would laugh his ass off, and then Fowler would hear about it, because even he could appreciate a good joke. Gavin was going to be the laughing stock of the station. Even worse, eventually the snide whispers were going to reach Tina, who would be deeply hurt Gavin didn’t tell her. And eventually, slowly, the news would reach RK900. He wouldn’t believe it from a third-party source, though. He’d come to Gavin to verify. And then, quietly, politely, he’d leave. The next day his desk would be empty. Gavin would hear through the grapevine that a tactical unit or some nicer department had taken him in, and that would be that. 

Gavin would text him a couple of times, when drunk. RK900 wouldn’t reply to any of them, and that would be that. The end of things. It had been a wild ride, Gavin guessed. A ride he had begged to get off from the moment it started, but one he desperately wanted to get back on, now that it was ending. 

RK900 more or less processed the scene by himself. Gavin did his best not to throw up, or chain smoke, or smash his fist through a wall. He did pace, however. 

“Are you alright?” RK900 asked. 

“I need you to take me home,” Gavin replied. “And – and I need you to not ask any questions.” 

RK900 nodded once, and took Gavin home. The drive was silent, and awkward, and Gavin’s wet jeans clung too tightly to his legs. When they reached the parking lot, they sat together in silence, and Gavin relished the quiet. His knee brushed against RK900’s, and even though it wasn’t warm, it was the best accidental contact Gavin had ever experienced. 

Something in RK900 snapped. “Connor. What did he say to you?” 

“Nothing, he – “ 

“—He’s jealous of our working relationship, he wants–“

“—RK, it’s okay. I’m just having a shitty day.” 

“Caused by Connor.” 

Gavin sighed. “Maybe a little bit.” 

RK900 pinched the bridge of his nose, and Gavin was taken aback by how human the gesture was. If that surprised him, he was about to be floored when RK900 said, “I fucking hate that guy.” 

It startled a laugh out of Gavin. 

“He thinks he’s God’s gift to androids,” RK900 added. “I’ll inform him that he should leave you alone.”

“That would only stoke his fire.” Gavin opened the car door. “I’m going to get some dry clothes. You coming?” 

“Of course,” RK900 replied. 

 

RK900 stood in Gavin’s living room, looking around like for all intents and purposes like he was at a crime scene. Gavin waited for him to start tasting the plants. When he didn’t, Gavin headed over to the fridge, intending on offering RK900 something to drink. As his hand wrapped around the door handle, he realized RK900 couldn’t consume anything. 

“Can you taste?” Gavin blurted out.

RK900 was taken aback by this question. “I’m sorry?” 

“I know you don’t eat, but can you pick up on flavors?” 

RK900 shrugged. “I’ve never put anything in my mouth worth tasting.” 

“That’s depressing.” 

“It is what it is.”

Gavin began to unzip his coat, then his fingers froze. 

“Is it stuck?” RK900 asked. He drifted closer, ready to help. 

“No, no, it’s…” Gavin paused, realizing exactly how close RK900 was, now. They were breathing in each other’s air. If he had been human, Gavin would have felt the heat of his body. Without Gavin’s consent, his eyes drifted to RK900’s lips, then back up to those unfortunately lovely eyes. 

RK900 moved carefully, like he was performing surgery, instead of reaching to touch Gavin’s collarbone. If Gavin hadn’t seen RK900’s hand move, hadn’t seen fingers run over skin, he wouldn’t have known they were there. The touch was that light. 

Gravity. That was all Gavin could think about, was how impossibly heavy he felt. He ought to fall straight through the floor into the apartments below him, he was so weighted down. It was extremely difficult to lift his hand up and wrap it around RK900’s. It was fighting every instinct in his brain, every neuron that was telling him now was the moment to shrug the touch off. Now was the time to walk away, unscathed and safe. Because that’s what this was, after all – dangerous. Deadly, even. Stupid, surely. And Gavin had made stupid decisions before, but none that were quite as life-ruining as this. 

And yet. 

He raised RK900’s hand to his lips. He let RK900 feel how they were rough, borderline chapped. Then he let go. 

RK900’s hand stayed. His thumb ran over Gavin’s lips again, and Gavin stood stock still, waiting. Waiting for a kiss. Waiting for RK900 to pull away. Waiting for the world to end. 

The fingers drifted lower, to Gavin’s chin, then down his neck. As they reached his chest, he was hit by a sudden jolt. A sudden memory of who he was, where he was, who he was with. The impulse to be vulnerable was there, and it hurt like a bitch. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. 

The fingers pulled back. RK900 nodded once. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“I’ve got so much to fucking apologize for, you don’t even know.” 

“Not to me.” 

“Especially to you.” 

RK900 met Gavin’s eyes. “Want me to leave?” 

“Nah, just let me get changed.” 

 

The station was normal when they returned to it. It was busy, as per usual, with suspects being led into the holding area, and people chatting in the break room, and with people hard at work at their desks. No one turned to look at Gavin or RK900 as they entered, despite the weird energy they were clearly radiating. Hank was saying something to Connor, who was laughing. 

It was like there was a small storm cloud over RK900’s head. He barely acknowledged Gavin as the two sat down at their desks, but began rapidly typing on his computer. Gavin raised an eyebrow at this, but let it slide – RK900 likely had his own way of processing what just happened between the two of them. Gavin wasn’t going to push anything, not now. 

An hour passed, with Gavin holding his ear to the ground, waiting for a whisper, for a murmur, for a sign of anyone knowing. Nothing came. 

By the time Tina walked into the bullpen, Gavin was bursting at the seams. He needed to talk to someone. Anyone. 

She read his head jerk correctly, and followed him down into the interrogation rooms. They secluded themselves in an observation room. It was dark, but it would get the job done. 

“You’re freaking me out,” Tina said. “What’s up?” 

“Everything’s gone to shit.” 

“Who’s body we burying?”

“Mine.” 

“Are you hysterical? Do you need me to slap you?” 

“Maybe. First, I need you to look at something.” 

Gavin tugged down the collar of his shirt, revealing the mark. Tina stared at it, frowning. She looked back up at Gavin, still confused. “I’ve already seen your stupid tattoo.” 

“Read it.” 

“RK900 #313 24 – hey, isn’t that…?” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Huh. That’s random.” Tina read Gavin’s face. “Except – oh, fuck me. Please, please tell me that’s random.”

Gavin shook his head, and sank down into a cheap, plastic chair. He put his head in his hands. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I was supposed to just – slap some synth-skin on it and not think about it. But then I fucking met him. I didn’t want to be his partner. I don’t want to be his other half. Didn’t. Don’t. I don’t fucking know. He’s a fucking android, Tina. That’s the problem.” 

“This is a lot for me to process,” she admitted. “But firstly, dumbass, you should have told me.” 

“Oh, cause you’re so warm and fuzzy towards plastics?” 

Tina shrugged. “I got a soft spot for the big guy. I like the way he broke the coffee pot.” 

“You bitched about that for weeks.” 

“Yeah, but if you had been burnt by coffee, I would have had to hear you bitch,” she mused. “Shit, he did that for you, didn’t he?” 

Gavin wanted to fold in half and crumple to the floor in defeat. Instead, he nodded. “It gets worse.”

“Really?”

“Connor knows. Saw it through my shirt.” 

Tina took a deep breath. “Could be worse. Could be Hank.” 

“You don’t think Connor’s told him?” 

“No. Shit would have already hit the fan. No, the only person I can see Connor telling is RK900, but RK900 might not even believe him. Those two fucking hate each other.” 

“Fuck me, RK900 can’t know,” Gavin said, his heart seizing in his chest.

“Why not?”

“He – he – okay. Imagine you’re an android. You don’t have a mark, because of course you don’t, you’re an android. Then you find out some bastard has your serial number on his chest. But you – you are brand new. You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you. You’ve just been given the right to make your own choices. Why would you choose a washed up cop who’s on the wrong side of thirty? An asshole who doesn’t get along with anyone? A dickhead with a track record of hating androids? I’m sorry, Tina. He might be my other half, but I’m not his. And I can’t imagine him choosing me.” Gavin took a deep breath. “But I don’t want him to go anywhere. I want whatever part of him I get to have. So no, he can’t know.” 

“Sweetheart,” she began. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” 

Gavin nodded. 

“So know that I don’t say this lightly: you’re being so fucking stupid right now, it’s goddamn painful.” 

 

Gavin spent the afternoon in an emotional haze, and the evening in an alcoholic one. When no news about his mark reached the rest of the station, he realized Connor must have kept his mouth shut. Briefly, Gavin debated getting him an edible arrangement, then realized that he wasn’t a soccer mom from 2008 and Connor couldn’t eat it, anyway.

His third mistake of the day was picking a bar near the station to get drunk in. A couple uniforms he knew walked in, but luckily his personality was enough of a deterrent to steer them away. Between drink four and nine, Connor walked in.

Gavin had never really understood the expression ‘heart sinking into your stomach’ up until it happened to him. And these days, it was happening pretty fucking frequently. He ducked his head, but it was too late – Connor was cheerily heading towards him. Christ, Gavin wanted to wipe that smug expression off Connor’s face. But he had to play his cards right, or he risked losing everything. 

“Detective Reed,” Connor began, pulling a seat up next to Gavin. “I hope this seat isn’t taken.” 

“That depends. Are you going to order anything?” 

“Are you asking me to buy you a drink?” 

Gavin snorted at that, and his stupid mouth said, “You’re the wrong model, buddy.” 

Connor smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “I suppose I am.” 

“I owe you one. For shutting up, I mean.” 

“RK900 doesn’t know, I take it?” 

“Fuck, no.” Gavin played with the rim of his drink. “How does your scenario driven robo-brain figure telling him goes?” 

“Do you know why he doesn’t like me?” Connor asked, all attention on Gavin.

“I have a vague idea.”

“Because you suggested you’d rather I be your partner.” Connor smiled, bitterly. “You don’t get it. Not really. And it’s not my job to explain it to you.” 

With that, Connor stood up, brushing a small piece of lint off his coat. He turned towards the exit, like that brief chat had been all he had come for. And at first Gavin got hung up on the idea that that was illogical, and not something an android would do. But then again, they were people now. They were allowed to storm in and out of buildings all they damn well pleased. What a world they were living in. 

“What a pep talk,” Gavin replied, dryly. 

“You want a pep talk?” Connor looked like he had just about had enough of Gavin’s bullshit. It was odd, seeing that expression on his face. Gavin was so used to seeing Connor’s bland countenance, even under duress or pain, that it was startling to see something so human. “You’re the architect of your own unhappiness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm afraid I got pretty brutal writer's block on this one. Despite that, I appreciate your patience and hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

A weird sort of tension had built between Gavin and RK900. Normally, they could sit and be still together for hours, talking about anything or absolutely nothing at all. But in the days following the incident in Gavin’s apartment, the quiet became a pregnant silence. On Gavin’s part, this was because he had to tell RK900 the truth. 

He had reached this conclusion late at night, staring up at his ceiling. His apartment building was old, and had one of those textured ceilings that it was easy to imagine patterns in. But they were deceptive. He would be convinced he had seen something only to look away and back again and find it was gone. Before, he had seen phantom hands, strangers’ mouths. These days, the hands and mouths were easily identifiable. 

“I’m not a fucking coward,” he told the darkness. “I’m a dipshit, but I’m not a coward.” 

And yet, sitting next to RK900 in his car, he felt like one. 

They had been assigned a stake out. Normally, Gavin would look forward to the opportunity to shoot the shit with his favorite android, but this occasion was spectacularly awkward. Gavin wasn’t sure if he should spring it on RK900 at work, or if that was unfair – after all, there was nowhere for RK900 to go. And wasn’t that a rule? That you shouldn’t hit on people when they were at work? But he never saw RK900 outside of work, and they were friends at this point, but did that make it any more acceptable? And was there even a way to ask RK900 to hang out outside of work without phrasing it like a date? 

“You’re quiet,” Gavin said. 

“I’m working.” 

“Ouch, alright.” 

RK900 spoke without so much as turning his head to acknowledge Gavin. “I should have specified: I’m working on a personal project.” 

“Best laughs you’ve recorded? Connor’s top ten failures?” 

RK900 cracked a smile at that. “My existence points out all of Connor’s failures.” 

“Touché. What’s the project?” 

“I will share it with you when it’s finished.” 

“Can I have a hint?” 

RK900 drummed his fingers on the wheel. “No.” 

“Please?” 

“It’s not ready, Detective Reed.” 

Gavin fell quiet, lost in thought. The world outside the car was dark, illuminated only by streetlights. If they hadn’t been so short staffed, uniforms would have been in their place. But everything was different now. Androids were people, Detroit was still mostly empty, and Gavin had a better half. Sort of. In the ways that didn’t count. 

“I’ve been thinking about things,” Gavin began. 

“Dangerous.” 

“Shut up, I was gonna say something nice.” 

“By all means.”

“I think you should stop calling me that.” There was something large and awkward sticking in Gavin’s throat. His palms were sweaty and he rubbed them against his jeans.

“What would you have me call you?” 

“Gavin. You know, my name?” 

“That’s your name?” 

Gavin’s jaw nearly dropped, but then he noticed RK900’s grin in the low light. Gavin elbowed him in the side. “Looking at you, developing a personality even worse than mine.” 

“I have a poor role model.” RK900 hummed. “But I believe we have good characteristics, too.” 

“Sure. You’re tall.” Gavin carefully analyzed the horizon, the stitching of the leather, the seam of his pants. “And nice, and shit.” 

“On what occasion was I nice?” 

“You’re nice to me all the damn time.” 

“You’re the exception, not the rule.” 

“Why?” Gavin asked, immediately regretting the word as soon as it slipped past his lips.

“You’re my partner.” 

“So if you were partnered with Hank, or Ramirez, or Wilson, or Connor—“ 

“—They were options.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I had the option to be partnered with them.” RK900’s fingers traced a pattern on the gear shift, gently. It reminded Gavin of a recent rainy day, and – not now. He’d think about that later. “I was given carte blanche, when I applied to the station.”

Gavin snorted. “And you took one look at the fucker with a broken nose and history of hating androids and said, ‘This one, please’?” 

“Yes.” 

Something shifted in Gavin’s chest. Something he hadn’t known had been out of place until it clicked neatly back in. “Oh,” he said. 

He clasped his hands between his knees and let RK900 fiddle with the radio. He let RK900 change the station, and realized belatedly that his presets had been changed. He also discovered that he didn’t really care. 

 

And then everything went to shit. 

Gavin was familiar with the occasional firefight. A few of them still kept him up late at night. But this one was a doozy. 

The suspects had cornered themselves – always a bad sign – in a warehouse. Gavin and RK900 had been investigating a crime scene a block away when an urgent call came in from a wounded uniform who was stuck between a rock and a hard place. And RK900, for all his wonderful qualities, also had the unfortunate knack of wanting to play hero. Whenever he explained it to Gavin, it was always connected to career growth. 

“Where’s this fit in your ten-year plan?” Gavin yelled over the din. RK900 grinned back at him, and fuck. Gavin wished he had a camera in his head like androids did. He wished he could capture moments like this, particularly when he was about to die. 

They were each sheltered behind a pillar, respectively. Ten meters in front of them was the injured officer, who was blocked from gunfire by what might have at one point been a Cyberlife crate. Gavin didn’t give a shit what it’s origins were, just that it was intact enough to keep the poor bastard out of the firing line. That was only one of his problems, however. The bigger issue at hand was that he seemed to have taken a bullet to the leg. Gavin was no doctor, but he knew that much blood wasn’t a good sign.

“We need to get him out of here,” Gavin said, and RK900 nodded, not minding that Gavin was pointing out the obvious. 

“I have a plan,” RK900 said. “But you’re not going to like it.” 

“What?” 

“I’m going to draw their fire towards the eastern half of the building. That should give you the opportunity to take him out the west entrance.” 

A bead of sweat ran down Gavin’s face. “No.” 

“No?” 

“I’ll draw the fire, you get him out.” 

“That’s illogical. It takes one bullet to kill you. It takes ten to knock me down.” 

“I saw a headshot take out Connor.” 

RK900 rolled his eyes. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m better than Connor?” 

“Please, RK. Let’s just wait for backup.” 

“His artery has been severed. He won’t last that long.” 

“Right,” Gavin said. Gavin had spent his whole life conflicted about not having a soul mate. Now he had one. And suddenly, the road in front of him had transformed from a multi-lane highway into a country lane. There was only one way forward, and that way included RK900. 

Gavin rolled out of his crouched position and sprinted east. 

He heard bullets whizz by his ears, and felt the signature sting of one nicking his calf. Then came the familiar burn of one getting firmly lodged in his arm. That didn’t slow him down. If anything, it made him faster. 

He repositioned himself behind a dumpster, gasping for breath. When the firing paused, he ducked out and got off a few shots. One struck a suspect in the shoulder, and Gavin watched with satisfaction as the man dropped. Then he returned to hiding, assessing the damage. There was no safe way for him to assess whether or not RK900 had managed to get the wounded cop out okay, but Gavin knew he had.

He rubbed at his chest, thinking. Around him, the world went dim. 

It was a matter of waiting, after that. Waiting for the snipers to get in position. Waiting for the unique singing zip of bullets, and the sound of bodies dropping. Then a tactical unit stormed the building, and suddenly arms were being wrapped around his waist, pulling him to his feet. Briefly, Gavin tried to stand. Then he realized it was RK900 who was holding him up, and he let go. 

“He’s been shot,” RK900 said, and paramedics swarmed around the two of them. 

RK900 didn’t loosen his grip. He half-carried Gavin to the ambulance, not letting go until Gavin was secured on the gurney. 

“I’m going to kill you,” RK900 said as a paramedic slipped an IV in Gavin’s arm. Everything gained a warm glow. RK900 had a halo of light around him, illuminating the tufts of hair that had fallen out of place. 

“You’re an angel,” Gavin slurred. “C’mere. Let me fix your hair.” 

“Don’t move your arm,” the paramedic ordered. 

“S’officer good?”

“He’s at the hospital. Critical condition.” RK900’s jaw was tense. “Gavin, I have never been so angry at another person.” 

Gavin shut his eyes. He tried to shrug, but even through the haze of painkillers, that hurt too bad to pull off. “Couldn’t be you.” 

“I can take a bullet. You’re made of flesh, and you’re not as fast as me. And you’re a smoker. And you don’t eat well. You’re doing everything you can to limit your time on this Earth. But I’m here. And if you go, you’re leaving me here all by myself.”

“Don’t cry, baby.” 

“I’m not crying, I’m furious.” 

“You’re doing both just fine.” Gavin felt fingers brush up against his. It hurt too much to move, but he let RK900 hold his hand. “Don’t be mad. Couldn’t be you. I just got you.” 

And with that, Gavin blacked out. 

 

The bullet missed his bone, and for that, Gavin was eternally grateful. He was less grateful for the desk duty while his arm was in a sling, but he’d make do. 

RK900 stewed, for a while. He made a show of opening doors open for Gavin, and rolling his eyes whenever someone commended Gavin on his bravery. After the sling was swapped out for a bandage, RK900 softened. They fell back into step again. Until they didn’t. 

“What’s bugging you?” Gavin asked. 

They were buried deep in the archives, reviewing evidence on a case that was about to go to trial. It was going to be RK900’s first time testifying, and Gavin wanted to coach him through what to expect. But RK900 was once again unusually quiet. 

“You.” 

“Me?” 

RK900 nodded. Gavin found himself holding his breath. 

“May I ask you a personal question?” RK900 asked. 

“Only one, so make it good.” 

“All of my questions are good.” 

“King of fucking modesty.” 

RK900 cleared his throat. Never before had someone impatiently waiting for him to shut up gotten a good response out of Gavin, but. Well. Every rule had exceptions. 

“Are you mark-free?” 

Now. Now was the moment to tell RK900. Gavin didn’t even have to say it out loud – all he had to do was tug at the collar of his shirt, and there would be all the proof he needed. He hadn’t been raised to be an honest man, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of it. If he wanted to tell the truth, he could. And that was what he should have done. But he froze like a deer in the fucking headlights, because RK900 was smiling at him. 

It wasn’t a shit eating grin like Gavin was used to. It was the tiniest curl of RK900’s lips. The smallest of expressions. It was sweet, and shy, and coy, and it made something sharp hurt in Gavin’s chest. He had spent a short eternity turning his nose up at any talk of love in pop culture or in his daily life, and now the ghosts of his condescension had come back to haunt him. 

RK900 interpreted Gavin’s silence as agreement. 

“That means you can choose who you want to spend your time with.” RK900 looked down at his hands. Gavin found himself moving closer, involuntarily. “Which is in many ways, a gift. And you have no shortage of options. But I was hoping you’d consider spending it with me.” 

The world narrowed down to the space between them. So small. So crowded. 

“Eight hours a day aren’t enough?” Gavin joked. Air wasn’t filling his lungs fast enough. It was like he had been punched in the chest. It was like he had a broken rib or five. 

“No.” 

“What if I say no?” 

“Then I’ll never bring it up again.” 

“You – I – look, I’m not sure you want this.”

“Luckily, you don’t have to be sure of my wants. Only I do.” RK900 stepped forward. “Let me make you dinner.” 

“A dinner you won’t be able to eat,” he remarked. When would the room stop spinning? When would gravity come back to him?

“I am what I am, Gavin.” 

He took a deep breath. “One dinner.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Sure.” Rip it off like a Band-Aid.

 

They agreed on the smaller details – the location, the menu, the time – and Gavin felt like he was on a roller coaster, slowly climbing up the ascent. As he waited in his apartment and tried on six different shirts, he felt like he had reached the apex. When he heard the knock at the door, he felt the ride crawl over the edge and plunge down into oblivion. 

He hated how sweaty his palm was around the doorknob. He hated how flushed his face looked. He hated the way his shirt clung to his chest. He hated everything, he – 

RK900 smiled, and Gavin let him in. 

Gavin sat at the kitchen island and watched RK900 finely chop onions without crying, and neatly mince garlic, and then sauté those things in a pan. Gavin drank a beer and thought up conversation topics, only to realize they were unnecessary. The two of them were good at being quiet. There was no typical first date awkwardness, no how was your day? This was just a remix of a song they knew by heart. 

“Did you download a cooking module?” Gavin asked, eventually. 

“No. I used an old fashioned technique for this recipe.” 

“Really?” 

“I googled it,” RK900 said, making Gavin laugh. “I’m sorry if it’s bad. I wasn’t intended for this purpose.” 

“Doesn’t smell bad.” He stood up, doing his best to peek over RK900’s shoulder and failing. “Can I help?” 

“Can you taste test?” 

Gavin obeyed. “S’ good.” 

“You’re lying.” 

Gavin grinned. “Nah, I like it.” 

 

The meal was average, all things considered. Which was to say, the meal was objectively bad, but Gavin was in love, so it didn’t matter. 

“Not bad, for your first time,” Gavin pointed out. “My first time cooking I was eight, and I set the kitchen microwave on fire. So, y’know, practice makes perfect.” 

“I’m not used to performing at a level below excellent,” RK900 admitted. “Please don’t tell Connor.” 

“Scouts honor.” 

“You were never a boy scout.” 

“No, I just like the idea of them. Uh, minus the scandals.” 

“This date is not going as I intended it to.” 

“How did you picture it?” 

“I – it’s foolish.” 

“I’m all for foolishness. Lay it on me.” 

“I wanted to reveal my project to you.”

“I’m all ears.” 

RK900 shifted awkwardly in his seat. He inhaled, which Gavin assumed was learned behavior, and began. “I’m aware you have a former bias against androids. And although you’ve always treated me well, I can imagine you might be resistant to the idea of dating someone such as myself.”

“That’s –“ 

“—I have compiled a list of reasons why, despite this, I believe I would be an ideal companion. It’s very long, so I have printed it for you to read at your own leisure.” RK900 handed Gavin an envelope. RK900’s hands didn’t shake, but Gavin’s did as he opened it. 

The list was typed out in the classic Cyberlife font, but had been printed on slightly nicer paper than the department provided. It began practically, but spanned several pages. 

1\. We have similar schedules, so it will be easy to coordinate time together.   
2\. I am sympathetic to the fact that our jobs are very taxing, and will not ask for you to do any high-energy activities after work.   
3\. I am familiar with your sense of humor.   
4\. I am high adaptive, meaning I will be able to learn many new skills faster than a human being.  
5\. I’ll be able to assist with household chores and activities more effectively than other potential partners.   
6\. I have an intimate knowledge of the human body, and am capable of anticipating your needs in advance of you experiencing them. This extends to hunger, thirst, desire and the need for intimacy. 

The list was awkward, and clinical, and was clearly written by someone who wasn’t human. It broke down Gavin’s needs into bullet points and explained how RK900 could meet them. It was a robot’s version of love. But it was so painfully sincere, so inherently RK900, that Gavin couldn’t help but get a little emotional. 

“You’re upset,” RK900 said. 

RK900 reached to take the list, but Gavin held it out of reach. “No take backs,” he said, his voice quavering. 

7\. I am good with animals.   
8\. We have a similar social circle, and do not have to worry about making new friends.   
9\. Additionally, I have no family, so you will never have to worry about meeting them.   
10\. I have a built in internal calendar, so I will never forget important dates.   
11\. I do not require any facilities, so I will never take excessive time in the bathroom.   
12\. I am capable of active listening. 

Gavin put the list down on the table and stood up. He leaned down to kiss RK900. He had intended it to be passionate, but it came out too soft. RK900 reciprocated clumsily but with enthusiasm. Gavin fell in love for the third time that evening. 

“You’re too good,” Gavin murmured into RK900’s lips. “’S not fair.” 

RK900 stood up for easier access. Gavin leaned into him, hoping for more contact. He got what he wanted and then some. The world melted away beneath them. RK900’s mouth was hot and tasted faintly metallic, but Gavin didn’t mind. The hair he clutched at was soft, and real. Everything about RK900 was real, and so very alive. 

By the time Gavin was reaching for his belt, RK900 was taking off his shirt. Gavin scanned the android’s bare chest, hoping. It was blank, minus a few fine hairs someone at Cyberlife had purposefully scattered there. He kissed the spot where the mark should have been. The skin was warm, and life-like, and smelled like the cologne Gavin had tried to convince RK900 he didn’t need. 

RK900’s hands slipped up Gavin’s sides, and Gavin felt his knees go weak. He leaned his head against RK900’s shoulder and went limp for a moment. Then he took off his shirt. 

It was one thing to have your heart on your sleeve. It was another thing entirely to have someone’s name on your chest. 

He stared up at the ceiling. It provided no help, or guidance. He changed his mind and shut his eyes altogether. His shirt was still in his hand. The fabric hung limply between his fingers, and he debated shrugging it back on or dropping it to the floor. Around them, the room was painfully still. Seconds passed. The ticking of the clock on the wall was impossibly loud. 

It was the sirens that made him open his eyes. They were distant and faint, but they stirred some kind of recognition in him. He turned to the window and watched as the red and blue lights danced by. 

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked. He had intended to sound angry, but his voice came out small and sad, instead. 

“I don’t know what to say,” RK900 said. “I – Gavin.”

“You don’t have a mark,” he said. “You can’t. And so I didn’t tell you. But you signed up for this of your own volition, you dumb bastard.” 

The clock ticked on. The world continued to move forward, despite Gavin’s silent plea that it stop, just for a minute. All he wanted was a fucking break. But time continued to march forward. RK900 continued to stare at him with that goddamn unreadable expression. 

“But you don’t have to,” Gavin said. “I’m not a charity case. You don’t have to be with me because you feel bad. If you want to leave, I’ll understand. I’ll get over it. I’m real good at that.” 

RK900 blinked. Then his hands were on Gavin, pulling him closer. “I’m not,” he said. After a beat, he added: “When we met, you knew.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn’t,” RK900 said. “But I – I saw you, and. I wanted. You were the first thing I ever wanted.”

And wasn’t that just the thing – Gavin was so bad with words, but RK900 was so good with them. He could articulate his feelings in sentences and phrases in a way that should have made Gavin jealous, but instead made him feel awestruck. But if there was one thing Gavin could do it was act, and so he did. He took RK900’s hand, and kissed the knuckles. They were surprisingly smooth, but Gavin guessed that was one of the perks of being a newborn. 

“You don’t like the idea of better halves,” Gavin pointed out. 

“You’re not a half. And you deserve to have a choice.” RK900 paused. “I might not be your first choice, but you’ll always be mine.” 

Gavin inched closer, until their chests were touching. “You don’t believe in fate, or whatever the fuck?” 

“I’ll accept whatever version of reality allows me to be with you.” 

“I’m not easy.” 

“I know.” 

Gavin laughed, and RK900 kissed him. 

They ended up on the couch, Gavin on RK900’s lap. Gavin had forgotten how pleasurable it was to touch and be touched, and RK900 was experiencing it for the first time. It was a newfound glory, but he was clearly eager to embrace it in its entirety. Gavin sank down to his knees and kissed along the seam of RK900’s pants, his fingers dancing over sensitive skin. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” RK900 admitted, nervously. 

“All you gotta do is sit still and look pretty.” Gavin ran his thumb down RK900’s chin. “Look at that! You’re nailing it.” 

RK900 smiled, and something in Gavin’s stomach flipped happily. 

Gavin had never slept with a virgin, and had never thought about it, either. He knew it was a fetish for certain people, but he had never fully understood it. But when he took RK900 in his mouth, he realized what the appeal was. RK900’s head fell back, and a quiet moan escaped his mouth. Gavin hummed in pleasure, and RK900 grabbed at Gavin’s hair – not pushing, just gripping on for dear life as Gavin went down on him. The noises RK900 was making did something for Gavin – he could feel himself getting hard, and suspected that this was going to be a short affair for both of them. 

“Come here,” RK900 begged, and that made Gavin stop. 

“I am here.” 

“I want you closer.” 

Gavin began to get up, and then he found himself being pulled up by strong arms and getting pinned to the couch. Then RK900’s mouth was on his, and Gavin squirmed under RK900’s weight. It was solid, and secure, and made Gavin feel safe, embarrassingly enough. Then RK900’s fingers were on Gavin’s zipper, and Gavin bucked up against the delicious pressure of RK900’s hand. 

“Christ,” Gavin said, and then he felt RK900’s cock rub against his own. It didn’t take much after that – just a bit of friction and a whole lot of split slicked palms. 

RK900 came first, but was quick to finish Gavin off with an expert jerk of his hand. Gavin collapsed against the couch. RK900 rolled them so that Gavin was on top, and wrapped an arm around him lazily. 

“How did I do?” RK900 asked. 

“Not bad, for your first time.” 

“I meant the date.” 

Gavin grinned at him, and kissed him quiet. 

 

The next day, it rained again. Gavin once again forgot his umbrella. He got the call to head straight to a crime scene, and agreed to meet RK900 there.

It was a house, right on the edge of a neighborhood that was out of most people’s price range. A little brick bungalow, nestled in an overgrown garden, and so sue him – Gavin liked it. He liked the thought of owning it, of settling down, of carving out a corner of the world for him and RK900. He was letting his imagination drift as the rain began to fall. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a taxi pull up. RK900 emerged, opening an umbrella. Soon enough, that umbrella was hanging over his head. 

“Sorry I’m late,” RK900 said. 

“Yeah, well,” Gavin ran a hand through his hair, undoing all his styling. “Happy you’re here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks! Thanks for joining me on this journey and for leaving so many lovely and encouraging comments, they meant the world to me!


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